The one with a Packed Lunch
Sylus sat at the head of the grand obsidian table, his imposing presence commanding respect even in silence. The council of the Onychinus murmured softly among themselves, their gazes flickering to him every so often. It wasn’t unusual for Sylus to dominate the room; his silver hair gleamed under the dim chandelier, and his crimson eyes practically dared anyone to challenge him.
But today, it wasn’t his authority or sharp words that had their attention—it was the ornate bento box sitting in front of him.
“Is… is that a packed lunch?” one of the generals finally blurted out, disbelief dripping from their voice.
Sylus calmly picked up a pair of sleek black chopsticks and began to eat without sparing the speaker a glance. “Do you have a problem with that?” His voice was low, lethal, but laced with an undertone of amusement.
Another dared to lean closer, curiosity outweighing their fear. “Who… made it?”
Sylus paused, his gaze lifting to meet the councilor’s. A slow, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “My wife.”
A ripple of murmurs spread through the room like wildfire. The leader of the Onychinus—an untouchable figure of terror and elegance—eating a lovingly prepared lunch made by his partner? It was so… domestic.
“Careful, you’re all staring,” Sylus said, his tone light but his eyes flashing dangerously.
One brave soul chuckled nervously. “It’s just hard to imagine you… like this.”
“Like what?” Sylus asked, his expression sharp now, daring them to explain.
“Happy,” someone muttered under their breath.
Sylus’s smirk grew as he popped a delicately sliced piece of fruit into his mouth, the note she had left for him tucked neatly inside his pocket.
“You’d do well to mind your own lunches,” he replied, leaning back with his usual unshakable confidence. But as the meeting continued, the council couldn’t unsee the small piece of humanity that shone through the otherwise impenetrable leader.
